


Equals and Opposites

by Transistance



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Although tagging that probably gives the game away, Dialogue, Dialogue Heavy, Gen, Gender Issues, Hospitalization, Like I mean really Will is bed-ridden there is very little movement, Minor Injuries, Not the trans character you'd expect, Trans Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-16
Updated: 2015-07-16
Packaged: 2018-04-09 17:15:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4357628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Transistance/pseuds/Transistance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grell, having heard that William has been injured in the field, rushes to his side - only to be confronted with a fact that she has never prepared herself for at all; that he is far more similar to her than she could ever want.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Equals and Opposites

**Author's Note:**

> Do you ever just get hit by that sudden Yes, This Could Be A Fic, I Shall Write This motivation and then, against all logic, follow it through to the bitter end? Because I certainly do.
> 
> I do write shippy things sometimes, I swear. I'm just establishing myself a nice base of completely blameless platonic Will/Grell first. Don't mind me.

“Will! _Willi_ am! No, let me in – don't you know who I am??”

The threat alone was not enough to dissuade the medical ward clerk. The physical manifestation of the chainsaw was. The poor lady gave a horrified gasp, slid out from behind her desk and fled.

Grell Sutcliff grinned lazily to herself and let the weapon vanish. She'd never met that particular warden, and if she had, it would have taken a lot longer to get inside. Lady luck must have been fond of redheads. She pushed the door open and strode through, intent on finding her superior.

Why exactly she hadn't been allowed in straight off was unclear to her – this was a private wing of the hospital facility and she had only ever visited it once, when she had been recovering from the Campania incident. It was quiet and secluded; a good place for individuals who needed an undisturbed recovery. But Will would never mind seeing _her_ , and she had to know that he was alright. It was not the first time she'd known him to be injured on the job – not at all – but for him to be rushed off for treatment immediately washed the incident in suspicion and concern in her opinion at least. Why was he being held here? She didn't know exactly what had happened to him – a demon attack, said the flying rumours, but nothing more definite, and Ronald had seen him come in and said he looked fine if a little shaken – so why the secrecy? He wasn't even currently listed as officially being treated here. Big hush-ups like that were either scandals or genuine causes for concern, both of which were things she had an interest in.

Especially if it involved her beautiful, icy boss.

 _Clip clop clip clop clip clop_. She'd been berated several times for wearing heels in the infirmaries before - “ _Ms Sutcliff can you please take them off? You're disturbing the patients' rest_ ” - but never paid them much heed. The audible cue of her arrival was as useful to people as the visual. It let them get out of her way quicker.

Empty beds, empty beds, empty beds. Where was Will? Several juniors she had terrified on the way here had unanimously confirmed that they had seen him arriving up here, and if he were in a serious enough condition to come here in the first place then he would not be able to get discharged so soon, surely? Empty beds, empty beds -

 _There_.

There he was, ahead, bed-ridden and with his nose in a book. How perfectly quaint. Her pace increased slightly, eager to see her beloved – one sided so far, but she knew that would change eventually; it had to – and he looked up, the bored expression shifting to one of alarm.

“Sutcliff! What are you- no, don't, just get out. Get out!”

The fear in his voice was loud and almost tangible, and she slowed, unsure. He sounded horrified, nothing like the usual anger that infused his tone. What was wrong with him..?

He had set the book down open across his chest, and she realized what was causing him so much discomfort. Right. Covers only at waist height and very few clothes because, by the looks of it, the open wound on his side hadn't been dressed yet. Ah. Yes. Right. She felt her face heat, and watched his blanch.

“Get _out_!”

Grell tried to look away; tried her _best_. “I only came to check that you were okay...” she protested, straining to keep her eyes from William's torso. He wouldn't want her looking – clearly _didn't_ want her looking – but... “People're hardly ever hurt enough to be sent up here... I just-” She gave up and let her eyes run over him guiltily. The open gash above his hip seemed to be the only imperfection – he looked beautiful, strong, very beautiful... If he'd remove the book from his chest she could -

“Will,” she asked suddenly. “What's that?”

“None of your damn business is what it is, Sutcliff, now _go away_. What will it take to make you just piss _off_?”

The _that_ in question was a thin, reddish line of skin that sat exposed on either side of the paperback's insufficient range. Scars? On his chest? They were clearly surgical rather than tears from a fight, scythe or otherwise, but why...

“Go away _now_ , Grell,” William said again, voice suddenly quiet and emotionless. “Please.”

“I...” she stopped, looked at his face. “May I..?”

“No. Absolutely not. Don't you d-”

She snatched the book from him – very rude, very unladylike, but wholly necessary if he was only going to be uncooperative – and stared down at his bare chest. Stared down at the two matching scars, one across each side, equal and exact. Stopped.

“It was a scythe accident,” he said, far too quickly. “Years ago now-”

“That... That looks like a mastectomy,” she whispered, and felt several familiar reassurances that she had built her life around begin to slip loose. “...Oh no. No _,_ that isn't fair. _That_ isn't _fair_!”

“To whom, Sutcliff?” William's face was filled with disgust, and suddenly it was a stranger lying on the bed. He – _she?_? No, if Grell expected people to acknowledge her pronouns then she'd damn well respect theirs – looked repulsed; by her, by himself, by the very nature of existence. It was not a feeling that she was unfamiliar with. Her eyes dragged across his body again, feeling the weight of the intrusion of his privacy fully now, and saw what would be assumed away under any other circumstances. The barest suggestions of ruined curves at his waist, an overall structure that was ever so slightly out of place on a man. Not enough to come to conclusions on, not without seeing his chest.

Questions bubbled within her.

“I... How many people know about this?”

“All high ranking medical staff.” He tried vainly to turn on his side, perhaps to shield himself further from her eyes, but his injury defeated him and he lay back with a groan. “And now one Grell Sutcliff. I hope you're happy.”

“Why didn't you tell me?? We're...” she searched for a moment for a word to describe their relationship, and settled for “Friends, Will, you could've-”

He snorted, rather scornfully for one in his position. “We are not friends, Grell Sutcliff. We've never been _friends_. Colleagues, at a stretch. There is a plethora of people I could have told, and trusted to hold a secret more than I trust you. You're a fluctuation, a discrepancy in the whole system, but in all honesty it doesn't matter _what_ you are; _this_ is not something I wanted known to _anyone_.”

A mind-reading scribe would have been able to record Grell's thoughts most accurately at that moment as _??????,_ and she blurted, “How didn't I recognise- I mean, others I'd understand, but _me_ -”

He cut her off angrily. “Because, Sutcliff, the only thing you ever seem to think about around me is hounding my _non-existent_ dick! Maybe if that wasn't at the top of your priorities you'd have a better understanding of the things going on around you.”

She pouted at him. “I'm _sorry_ that you're _attractive_ ,” she sniffed, the accusation – not unfounded, but still harsh enough to sting – having derailed her cleanly for a second. But then her eyes moved back to him, and question upon dumbfounded question piled up against her teeth. The most obvious one began worming its way out into the air.

“So... Ah... Um...” _You can't ask that, you can't ask that, that's literally the rudest thing you can ask anyone ever_. And if it had been anyone else she would never have broached the question. But this was Will, her Will, and she had to know.

“Your... Ah... lower half..?”

“ _Fe_ male. I just said that. And trust me, it's as much a disappointment to me as it is to you.” It wasn't such a surprise, now, she supposed, but disappointment... Yes, that would be a fitting word. So nearly a century's worth of advances had been aimed at...

“So you could have kids??”

This question burst from her before she could stop it, and William snapped. “Is that all you ever think about? Reproducing? What on earth is it that drives your backward fascination for female fertility, Sutcliff? Honestly... No, of course I cannot ' _have kids_ '. The choice between a functioning warp core and the ability to spawn young was frankly an easy one to make.”

She blinked, and tried to interpret his words in a way that made sense. “I... What? What choice?”

It took him a moment to answer – he managed somehow to look both exasperated and as if he wanted nothing more than to bite out his own tongue. “You don't know? I assumed you of all people would be familiar with the theory behind the change.” She shook her head mutely, and he glanced away. “I see,” he said.

“See what? You have to tell me, Will, you can't just leave me with that. What do you mean?” All unbalance caused by his apparent femininity had been swept to one side as she tried to take in this new information. So one couldn't...

“It is... simple, really.” He raised one hand to adjust his glasses very slightly – a habit Grell had watched grow over the years, signalling his discomfort with the topic. “Male warp cores are larger than female warp cores. Female reproductive systems are larger than male's, internally. They don't... fit.”

“Oh.” There suddenly seemed little else to say, really. “...Oh.”

“I'm... sorry. I thought you knew.”

“Hm? No, no, the medical staff have never let me look into... I suppose that explains exactly why, then.” She released a thoughtless, bitter laugh, and felt something inside her crack. _Your job or your gender, Sutcliff_. No wonder they'd never told her.

“So you... could have _had_ kids, then?”

“Yes. Theoretically, yes.”

“...I wouldn't give that up. Not for-”

He cut her off. “All the world? Because that's what it was to me. Honestly, you will never understand the freedom that I felt in those first moments. To be able to move freely between worlds – not once a year, not once a month, not even once a day – but once every ten minutes! That such an ability could seem so trivial to someone such as yourself – it amazes me even now. I had been to the mortal plane once before the operation – just once, on the arm of one of the male medical instructors. I relied on him totally to transport me – it was a lesson in retrieving reapers put out on field duty, and the main learning point was _don't leave your female colleagues behind, because they will not be able to get back_. Can you even _begin_ to comprehend that sort of helplessness, Sutcliff?”

No. She couldn't. She had always been strung up in the physical aspects of femininity – the shape of one's body, the depth of one's voice, the beauty of one's movements. Her own were wrong, wrong, wrong – but to not be able to jump? To be forced to stay tied to one realm with total dependence upon someone else? A familiar panic was coming across her, and she tried to take several long, deep breaths to quell it. _Don't think about it. Don't think about it. You've always known that the procedure isn't feasible yet – they'll figure out how to get it done properly one day. You know they will_.

But that said, would she feel the same if she had never jumped? If she had never visited the human realm since her ascension to reaperhood? “Still, to have yourself... sterilized, I just... I don't think I'd be able to do that.”

Williams gaze darkened, face twisting into a sneer. “But tell me, Grell Sutcliff, how would you know? You've never sat on this side of the fence. You don't know what it's like to be unable to move freely between realms; you don't know what it's like to feel the weighted opinions of people, in fact, not unlike yourself – banging on about babies and how it is a woman's duty to carry them. Reapers don't need children, Grell – we are created and destroyed without the need for offspring or ancestors, and the promise of being a mother was always a hollow thing for me.”

She frowned, looked away. “I'm not sure I approve.”

“No, I'm sure you don't. But spare me the lecture, please; I could present one on the opposing side of the argument to you, and cat-fights are never appreciated in hospitals.”

No, of course not. Grell didn't think she had the stamina to hold one of their frequent heated arguments right now, anyway. She was still just trying to understand.

“You... mutilated yourself.”

“No, I had myself improved. Drastically, in my opinion.”

Sensing that that side of the discussion was not open for debate, Grell changed tack. “So what was your name, then? Wilma? Wendy? W-”

“William is a fully fabricated name. Mine was Tamsin.”

“...Oh. The middle initial. Of course. Right. Ah... nice name, very pretty. But how did you..?”

He sighed, and exposited. “Tamsin Spears came into this existence to be trained in Medical, and got through two years before dying suddenly in a tragic accident. Nothing untoward – the paperwork's all filed and fine, should anyone happen to check it. New reaper, unexpected tragedy, _no further comments_ . Oh, it was a shame to lose one _so_ young, of course, and so bright at that! She could have been anything she wanted, you see – a secretary, office lady, doctor or nurse. But these things happen. I was mourned by many and missed by few, and three months later William T. Spears transferred to London's academy for Dispatch, from Sheffield's unit, for 'medical reasons'.”

“Oh!” Faint memories fluttered to the surface of Grell's mind. “I remember that. You were the late kid? Everyone said you'd never catch up; you'd missed too much of the course in those months alone...”

He nodded confirmation. “The two years' absence was harder to catch up on. But really it wasn't so difficult – and it wasn't long before William T. Spears was recognised as a capable reaper if not an exceptional one. A straight B-level student. Grades and mannerisms neither so high or so low as to give anyone cause to engage with me.”

“You mean you didn't have any friends? That's pretty sad, Will.”

“I had friends!” he snapped immediately, and then reconsidered his words. “I had acquaintances, at least. Although none of them amounted to much. Stevens and Robertson failed in the fifth year… Clark dropped out a while later... Shelly made it through, although I think he works in Personnel now.”

“George Shelly? I remember him.” Grell beamed, pleased to be able to recall the freckled and bespectacled face of a long lost friend. “He was cute. Bit of an underachiever, right enough, but cute nonetheless. I slept with him once... No, twice.”

William pulled a face. “That's nice to know, Sutcliff; thanks for sharing that.”

“Mm...” Grell reigned in her train of thought and added suddenly, “Wait. Were you a girl when we took the final exam?”

He blinked. “That depends where your line of definition is. My female... systems were removed at the same time as my former identity, and I was on various medications to help the body create the more subtle changes that don't require surgeries. But I only had this-” he made a sharp motion across his chest, indicating the scars - “done much later, when I realized that there was no conceivable use for them ever, and that keeping them was the only threat of discovery remaining. That was... what, a month or so before I was offered my current position?”

Grell stared at him. “What?? That was only thirty years ago! You didn't have breasts. I'd've noticed.”

She noticed him flinch slightly – only very slightly, the tiniest of movements, but it was still there – on the word 'breasts', and wondered why, but didn't get a chance to ask. “Binders,” he said, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Chest binding is something I became remarkably skilled at over the years. It's... easier than it sounds.”

She squinted; tried to imagine him as he would have been in those days. Not overly curvaceous, but a little, surely? Hair loose? In a bun? Bob?

“You'd look nice with long hair.”

“Wrong, but thank you for the sentiment.” He looked at her, and guessed what she was trying to do. “I wore it tied back. It was a little longer than shoulder length.”

“That's cute.”

“No, it isn't.”

She blinked, and turned her head on its side as though considering him further. “It still has to be said, you're very handsome for a woman in a suit, Will.”

“Suit or no, I'm not a woman.”

“Oh, no, I know that!” She bared her teeth at him in a wide, faux-friendly grin, and explained, “But that's how you always categorize me, isn't it? A man in a dress? I'm afraid I rather fail to see the difference, all things considered.”

“The difference?” He looked put out, and glared at her. “The difference, Sutcliff, is that it is not illegal to be a cross-dresser. The worst penalty you can face for being a man in a dress is that of breaching uniform codes. It is not even illegal to believe that you are something which you are not. But to act upon it? To actively go out and have yourself changed – ' _mutilated_ ', as you said; you're certainly not the only one to hold that view – and to be successful enough to rise to a position of authority with such deceit at your back? The law is quite clear about that. It must all be regulated, controlled – none of which the incident in my case was.”

 _Fascinating_. This was, in all honesty, just that – the seriousness of the scenario was finally beginning to set in, and Grell found herself at sea. Eventually, though, she figured out how they could be summed up.

“Equal and opposites.”

“What?”

“Equal and opposites,” she repeated, as though it were obvious. “That’s what we are. Two faces of a coin. Black and white. Or... Black and red, I suppose. Equal and opposites.”

“Opposites, certainly.”

“Hmf!” she tossed her hair, clearing it from her face to glare at him. “There's really no need to be rude. It’s quite...”

“Unladylike?” He stared at her, daring her to answer.

 _You think I would say that_? “I was going to say unprofessional.”

A half smirk graced his lips for a moment before his face became expressionless again. “A damning accusation indeed.”

She blinked, and considered her boss – her superior – her _love_ \- anew. “ _This_ is the reason you don't get close to people!” she realized. “Because you're afraid-”

“I don't get close to people because you are all _morons_!” Any trace of the humour he had just shown was gone, and he scowled up at her. “Honestly, Sutcliff, even if I had had any desire to form friendships at _any_ level it would not be with _anyone_ in this office. All any of you seem to be interested in is drinking and women, except you yourself, who replace that with murder and men. And don't get me wrong, it's worked well for me that nobody except you has tried to move in on me! I am honestly _grateful_ that the only threat of discovery came from a single member of my staff! But your single-mindedness is _frustrating_ , and the pettiness of the majority of your concerns is _aggravating_ , and even if it were prudent for a supervisor to be close to anyone working under him I simply cannot be bothered with the majority of your company.”

The words were brutal, and Grell found herself annoyed by them. “Maybe you'd think people were a little less petty if you actually got to know them! I don't suppose it's occurred to you that nobody just spills their heart to a stranger – especially to someone like you, all high and mighty all the time! People are often petty on the surface, Will, that's why you get to know them. That's why you're _friendly_ to them.”

“Oh?” Will's eyebrow hitched sharply, and he pushed himself up onto his elbows in an attempt to get closer to her height. “Is that what you've been to me all these years? _Friendly_? Were the constant innuendos and flirtations friendly? How about every time you've tried to invade my presence, touch me, bed me? Were those friendly? You are the _worst_ of them, Grell, and if you believe you have any moral high ground with which to lecture me on how to treat other people you are as deluded in that aspect of life as you are in the rest.”

She watched him breathe, heavily, and then eye her for a moment before letting his arms give out and lie back again. “...Sorry. I am sorry. It was... just a bit of fun, Will. You know I'm like that with a lot of people.”

“And you know exactly how clear I've made it every time that I wanted nothing more than for you to _stop_.”

Grell bit her lip, feeling slightly uneasy with the topic of conversation. “W-e-ll, y-e-es... I mean, I'm sure it seemed that way to you. And maybe it seemed that way to most of the other people here too. Maybe. But I never... God, this sounds silly now, but please believe me when I say I never thought it was bothering you? You never reprimanded me for that – and you've never had a problem with reprimands of any other sort – you just hit me and ignored it... It was a bit of a game. It was meant to get under your skin a bit, provoke a reaction, but I never meant... Will, please, I never meant to upset you. Or scare you.”

It was obvious now, given his situation, that his reactions had never been encouraging. She could understand why it had bothered him so much, easily, and to a milder extent why he had never made a fuss of it. _Oh, Will, darling. You should have said something._

“...I'll not do it again, obviously.”

To her surprise he frowned slightly, calculating eyes assessing her again. “People would notice, wouldn't they? They'd know that something had happened.”

“Well of course they would, darling.” She grinned at him, amused by his lack of awareness for what other people thought of them. “But they wouldn't assume _this_ – they'd just think either that we'd finally slept together or finally broke up, depending on what assumptions they have already.”

The speed with which his face blanched and then coloured was amazing to watch, and Grell cracked up. “Oh, come on, it's not that bad! _Every_ one knows I've been drawn to you from the start, and given that most of them have slept with _me_ at one point or another I think they take it as a bit of a personal offence that you haven't.”

His mouth curled in disgust at her words. “Of course, you've never said anything to dissuade the rumours, have you? You'd fan the fire rather than put it out.”

“Well, I might have embellished things once or twice... But I've never actually _stated_ that you'd made love to me; I wouldn't do that. I know how much your reputation means to you.”

“And exactly how to shatter it, apparently,” he muttered, and it was her turn to sigh.

“I can keep at it if you want, Will, if it'd be better with you knowing that my intentions toward you no longer exist. I don't know how realistically I'd be able to do it, though – I mean, not that you aren't still attractive, it's just... well... you know. Whilst your body is beautiful in its own right, the idea of sleeping with someone who has... well, is like you, it isn't exactly appealing.”

The man gave a single bark of laughter and was suddenly smiling that terribly ironic smile again. “Trust me, the feeling's mutual.”

A brief silence fell. Grell stared at William, who looked as though he had said anything else but that.

“...Are you a lesbian, Will?”

He winced and turned away, face full of sudden regret at having invited the question so easily. “That's a very personal question, Grell, and I think you've hit ask limit on those for today.”

She peered at him, choosing to ignore that. “Do you have a special someone? Eyes on any of the lovely ladies of the department? I could probably set you up with one if you-”

“I told you, nobody can know about... me. My heart can be as wanton as it likes; even if there was a mutual attraction between me and _anyone_ I would be unable to act upon it.”

“What about your body?” Grell tilted her head at him, and clasped her hands underneath her chin. “Surely you're not celibate?”

She watched him close his eyes and do his best to pretend that she didn't exist. The silence held, deepened, and stretched until she feared he had fallen asleep. “Come on, Will,” she muttered, and on impulse reached out to tousle his immaculate hair – which provoked a response. He slapped her hand away, eyes still closed, and said, “Don't touch me, Sutcliff. No. No, I'm not celibate.”

“Then who... _Oh_.” She blinked, opened her mouth slightly, closed it again. “Oh,” she repeated. “ _That_ 's why you were so hacked off at me about the Ripper incidents.”

He remained silent.

“...I hope I didn't kill anyone you were fond of.”

It took him a moment, but he did open his eyes and speak this time. “They were just voices and sensations in the dark. Names and faces were never exchanged, so I've no way of knowing if you did or did not.” He sighed. “I suppose that gives you cause to abhor me further.”

She considered it, and answered without thinking. “Not... necessarily. It must be difficult to lead a loveless life.”

As if what she did were any better. William frowned up at her and simply mimicked, “Not necessarily.”

They were interrupted from this line of discussion by the sudden noise of the room's doors banging open and closed as one of the medical staff swept in, her gaze sweeping haughtily across the empty beds until they came to rest on Grell. Her bright green eyes narrowed slightly.

“Ms Sutcliff! Natalie told me you were in here. Said you came at her waving that chainsaw of yours like a lunatic.” The matron frowned, glanced at William, then added, “You shouldn't be in here at all, really. It's a closed ward. Mr Spears, are you alright with this?”

“No, but he's here now, so the damage has been done. It's not like there's anything worse he can do by staying if he wishes to.”

Grell pouted at the pronouns thrown her way. “I've acknowledged your gender for as long as I've known you, Will; it'd be a small kindness if you could do the same, you know.”

“I’ve given you a rather extensive number of reasons why I won't, Sutcliff, and you can take them or leave them.”

“You're being a bit of a dick.”

“I'm not the one who comes bursting into private hospital rooms unwanted and unannounced.”

She had no answer to that, but was rescued unexpectedly by the warden - “Leave it, _William_. You know better than most how detrimental that sort of thing can be to people.” He scowled at them both, but relented nonetheless.

“Fine. _Miss_ Sutcliff knows everything there is to know now, and there's nothing I can do about it.”

“I hope you haven't been encouraging her to do anything... rash?”

Grell looked between the pair, confused, and said, “No, he ha-” at the same time as Will replied, “Quite the opposite. You always think the worst of me, Moira.”

The matron sniffed. “Good.” she said, with a dark finality. “What they did to you was so, so illegal, William, and I'd hate to see her stumble down the same path.”

“I am here, you know,” the _her_ in question muttered. “And what exactly do you mean by that?”

“I mean he was lucky to get through the operation alive. Nobody's done it before or since. Stupid, reckless thing to do.”

“They had tested it before,” William protested quietly. “It was all-”

“Tested on corpses, sure! But on live reapers? You were a shot in the dark, William _T_ Spears, and you shouldn't have gone near any of it in the first place.” She sniffed again, and then added, “You need rest, and then stitches. So go ahead and keep talking to Ms Sutcliff for as long as you like, but don't stress yourself out – you'll make yourself worse. Whatever weapon it was that got into you's split the seams across the operation wound, as I'm sure you're aware, so it'll be a while yet before you're up and about, and a while longer before you can go much further than that office of yours.” She glared down at him rakishly, nodded to Grell, and then turned to walk off. “Twenty minutes,” she called over her shoulder. “Then I'll be back, and you, Miss bloodbath, had better be gone.”

Grell watched her go. “What a nice nickname,” she muttered. “Do you think she came up with that on the spot?” She paused, picked at her nails and then remarked, “Doesn't seem to like you too much. Do you not get along?”

“I think that much is apparent. She disapproves of me probably even more than you do.”

“Yes, I gathered.” Grell blinked. “How did the... ah... the _operation_ work, Will? Why was it so dangerous?”

He scowled, glanced away from her. “It was a simple procedure, really.” he muttered. “She makes more of a deal out of it than she has any cause to. They cut bits of me out and replaced the space with a male warp core.”

“They replaced it? From where?”

“A male reaper. I should think that is apparent in its nature alone.”

“Yes, but I mean, a dead one? You didn't...”

To her horror, he avoided her gaze. “He was a volunteer,” he said at last, with great reluctance. “Younger than me. He wanted the operation as much as I did. Perhaps even more so. He was in the same position as you, you see – he wanted to be female with every ounce of his being, right from the start. Said he couldn't bear to live with himself as he was. We disregarded the risks of it all, put our faith and our futures in the hands of the medics – but even with all their training, all the preparation and calculations and assurances...” he shrugged slightly, and Grell felt herself grow cold. “He died. They made the incisions in the same second, removed our respective cores within an instant of each other – and he died. Instantaneously and without so much as a sigh.”

“And you... didn't?”

“Evidently. I blacked out when it was taken, but recovered fully as soon as it was replaced.” He shook his head. “And so a breakthrough was made, for one side of the equation. A female, give or take, who can jump without major complications.”

 “So why isn't this common knowledge?? If you can do it, why can't-”

“Weren't you listening? The donor _died_ , Grell. After my case they drastically redrew their plans and changed their attempts – but male reapers simply cannot function on female warp cores. And our bodies do not accept transplants that are not fresh. So, as Moira said – I was a fluke. And even if I wasn't – even if this became a common procedure – look at me! Look at me, Grell Sutcliff. This operation was about warp cores and warp cores alone – it wasn't gender reassignment. In my situation I can make the best of this; I can live with this. One foot on either side of the rather arbitrary line. But could you?”

He stopped, and rested a gaze that had become more piercing than anything else on her. “You're right, I don't need love - but you seem to. Could you _live_ with being an androgyne in form as well as manner? Neither a functional male nor quite an honest female. You'd be in a worse position than you are now.”

The issue hit home, and Grell considered it anew. William had succeeded in becoming a functional _reaper_ , but not a functional man. Whether he actually wanted to be a functioning male was another question entirely, but she had passed the point where asking it could be considered anything other than terribly rude, and it didn't matter, anyway. She wasn't sure that the situation could be translated into female terms at all. It was a mess; a damned mess, and she was beginning to wish she hadn't brought it up. She was beginning to wish that she hadn't come bursting into the hospital ward in the first place.

“I'm... sorry, Will. I shouldn't have come in here.”

He sighed, deeply. “The truest words you have ever spoken. But there's nothing that can be done now.”

“I'll... go. You don't want me here; I'll go now.”

William looked up at her, eyes calculating, and said, “If you breath a word of this to anyone, I'll-”

“You'll what? Have my job, and my head upon a pike too, I suppose. You don't need to threaten me; I know. It's funny – you've given me here the largest bargaining chip anyone could hold over you, but taken away everything I wanted from you. You can trust me, Will; I won't tell a soul.”

“...Thank you.” He looked only half convinced, but Grell recognised it to be more fear then a direct mistrust of her in particular. “But I wouldn't have your job for it, or your head – I'd have nothing. Everything I am would be stripped from me, were I to be discovered; it would be easy to justify my permanent relocation to a medical facility. They would have no qualms about taking me apart and putting me back together again under the cause of trying to fix me.”

What a horrible thought – and she knew he was right. She herself had received quiet warnings from the medical staff when she had first expressed the beginnings of her gender discrepancy – which she had ignored completely – and given the abject rarity of Will's situation she doubted some of them would even pause to pull it up for illegality – they'd just cart him off and find out how he had happened.

Grell shuddered, and stood. “Well, you're right, I should be off. Who knows how much paperwork I've managed to avoid in this visit, hey?”

“Yes.”

She hesitated, then turned back and held her hand out to him; a peacemaking gesture. “Friends?” she asked. “Even if nothing else.”

Will closed his eyes and exhaled loudly loudly through his nose, as though the suggestion were ridiculous. “Were you not listening, Grell? I'm your superior. You are already the closest thing to a friend I can have.”


End file.
